


Sith

by Life_is_short_and_so_am_I



Series: Mando Kitchen AU [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Din's had a long day, Gen, Kitchen AU, Post-Angst I guess?, Restaurant is now destructauraunt, Sith atack aftermath, Their diner got Trashed, They play cards, Yea Din taught Syra how to gamble just so he could win all the time, angstyish, sldfkjalskjflkfjs tags yuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-26 21:34:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30112374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Life_is_short_and_so_am_I/pseuds/Life_is_short_and_so_am_I
Summary: After a drunk Sith trashes the Waystation, Din and Syra have to clean up.
Series: Mando Kitchen AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2215872
Kudos: 4





	Sith

Din and I stared at the wreckage of Waystation, more or less shocked into silence. 

(Okay, Din was generally silent anyways, but instead of silent judgement this silence exuded shock.)

“I think we need to update our customer service policy,” I said finally. My voice echoed weirdly in the ruination the Sith lord had caused. 

“Perhaps,” Mando conceded. He shifted Grogu to his other hip, unable to hide his pained exhale of breath as it hissed out. Even inebriated, the Sith lord had only  _ barely  _ lost to Din. 

“Do you need my help?” I asked slowly. I didn’t need to state what for - we both knew.

“No,” he said, voice gravelly. 

“Go ahead, then,” I said, squaring my shoulders against the daunting task again. “I’ll start cleaning up.”

The fact that he didn’t argue with me was probably indicative of the level of pain he was currently experiencing, but I knew he probably would rather die than let me help him with injuries anyways. 

He creaked off, metal making a screaking noise. 

When the Sith lord had used the Force to twist one of Din’s pauldrons (I think he was aiming for the helmet, thank the Force he missed) I was honestly shocked. Beskar could take just about anything. I wasn’t sure how Din planned to fix that. 

But, I had my own disaster to worry about. 

The Sith lord had wandered in, obviously drunk, but we hadn’t realized he was Sith until he slammed one of our regulars (probably former regular now) into the roof. After that, things got… well, messy. 

I waded through the wreckage, slowly amassing a pile of busted stools and chairs, clearing the debris and trying to determine what was salvageable. Less than I’d like. I sighed - we’d only  _ just  _ started to pull ahead with the profits. Figures something like this would happen. 

In the end, only three tables (maybe four if I could patch up the wobbly legs) survived, coupled with about a dozen chairs. One of the walls was dented and pocked with holes. Was that… a broken table leg sticking out of the wall?!?

Most of the light fixtures were broken - that wasn’t too bad, I’d been meaning to change out the bulbs anyways. One of our windows was shattered, letting in a chilly breeze and plenty of insects as the day shifted to night. 

I spent four or five hours sorting through the destruction before Din returned, sans his wrecked pauldron. I assumed he’d be taking a trip to his Armorer soon. 

“How is it?” he asked, voice still gravelly. 

I sighed. “We might as well burn this pile,” I said, pointing to a massive heap of destroyed wall hangings, furniture, dishes, glass, some shard of metal, and singed cloth. “I put everything salvageable over there,” I added, gesturing to the depressingly small assortment behind the burn pile. 

Din huffed out an exhausted breath; it echoed loudly in his helmet. 

“Are you okay?” I checked, rolling my shoulders. 

“Fine,” he said in an unusually flat monotone. “I put Grogu down to bed.”

We stood in silence for another long minute, surveying the damage as if it was still fresh. Oh, wait, it was. 

“We should go to sleep,” I exhaled finally. 

Din didn’t say anything, but he didn’t disagree either, so I took his silence for agreement. 

“I’ll see you in the morning,” I said finally, wending through the debris for the back door. 

<><><>

The next morning, Din and I emptied the dining room, clearing all the debris and wreckage out into the small back yard of the Waystation. While I worked on cleaning up the glass and metal shards (couldn’t have Grogu hurting himself) Din carefully burned the ruined furniture with his flamethrower. 

By evening, we’d cleaned everything out and scrubbed the walls and floor until they were safe to walk on again. Din had gone to find someone to fix the front window, while I tracked down a business who’d give us a good deal on some more tables, chairs, dishes, and barstools. 

We ended up sitting in the semi-dark dining room, (I’d forgotten to find new bulbs,) playing a card game that got increasingly more difficult as the evening deepened and shadows lined the interior. 

Din had taught me how to play months ago, not long after I started working for him. But he still usually beat me. His helmet did kind of give him an instant poker face, of course. 

“I suppose it could have been worse,” I mused, flipping a card and sliding it to the middle of the table. I swore under my breath as Din flipped his own card, beating me in yet another round. 

He didn’t say anything, but it didn’t surprise me anymore. A lot of our conversations went like this - me, talking almost to myself. Din, staying quiet, maybe gracing me with a word or - if I’m truly Force-blessed - an entire sentence. 

“Have you ever fought someone with the Force before?” I asked after a few moments of silence. 

“No,” Din replied quietly. “Not many around with it.”

I knew who we were both silently thinking about, of course. Grogu, who just today had used his strange powers to snatch some of the pastries we’d made a few hours before the Sith incident. 

Din laid down his hand, effectively changing the subject and the course of the game. Exasperated, I threw up my hands in a flutter of cards. 

“That’s it, go dominate someone else,” I cried. 

Din chuckled, a bit of a rare reaction. 

“Yeah, very funny,” I grumbled. “You get to move the tables tomorrow.”

“Alright,” he agreed, tone implying that he did not consider that a punishment. 

Grogu wandered in before I could think up suitable revenge, warbling in his mysterious baby-speak to his dad. Din exhaled, sounding exasperated. I was pretty sure he’d put Grogu to bed… three times now?

His son lifted a tiny fist, curled around what looked like a little silver ball. 

Din quickly scooped up Grogu, making for the back. 

“See you tomorrow!” I called after him as he left. 

**Author's Note:**

> This was NOT where I meant to take this lkfjldkfj but I like how it turned out!  
> At some point Mando is gonna teach Syra self-defense but for now he's teaching her the Art of Burnpiles.


End file.
